


The Ritual of Protection

by losyanya



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coping, M/M, Post-Scene: St James's Park 1862 (Good Omens), Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losyanya/pseuds/losyanya
Summary: A letter, sent on the same day, every year. Not even a letter, truly. A brief note, courteous and unassuming.The purpose of some rituals is self-contained.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38
Collections: Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween





	The Ritual of Protection

**Author's Note:**

> For Racket's 13 days of Halloween, for Day 13 prompt.  
> Much gratitude and appreciation to [lazulibundtcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazulibundtcake/pseuds/lazulibundtcake) and [werebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear) for beta reading!

It's that time of the year once more. 

The bookshop is closed to allow full attention to the process. The desk has been cleared off for the occasion, affording uncommon abundance of working space. A sheet of sturdy, heavy cream paper spread on the writing surface. Trusted quill, well-used, comforting in its familiarity. Century old inkwell, and favorite, richest black ink, with enough decency to not dry out with time. A candle and sky blue sealing wax, awaiting their turn. Immaculate calligraphy, rounded letters and measured flourishes. 

Just like the year before. And the year before that, and the one before that, with minimal, carefully weighed variations. 

It's so much easier now, now it has become an annual tradition. The first time…it's best not to recall. The lines were all shaky, the ink uneven from frequent pauses and spiking pressure... and there were drafts, so many drafts, countless sheets of paper crossed out, crumpled up, torn to pieces, anything short of burnt. Anything  _ but  _ burnt.

That first time Aziraphale had allowed the memory to pull him in, pull him back, back to the park, to the feel of a different piece of paper in his hand, to the sharpness of their voices, to the piercing icicle of fear in his stomach. A mistake, clearly. A lapse that might be avoidable if only he could keep his focus on the task at hand, dedicate his full attention to the details - and so the ritual was born. Customs emerging one by one, thoroughly considered, refined, established. Each step painstakingly applied like layers of coating, smoothing and shielding. Practice making — well, if not perfect, then palatable.

A letter, sent on the same day, every year. Not even a letter, truly. A brief note, courteous and unassuming. An invitation to meet and catch up, meticulously nonchalant. Polished. Business-like. With no apologies, no questions, no promises. At least not in the delicately penned letters, not without reading between the lines.

Aziraphale is careful not to look between those lines. Never know what you might find in your writing if you study it too long.

The same, last-known address is inscribed each year. It is of little concern whether the address is correct; it is always right. And the instructions and coin given to the boy outside, on the bookshop stairs, are also nothing but well-rehearsed steps of the ceremony. Aziraphale could toss the letter into the busy street, under the hooves of the carriage horses, or drown it in the Thames with the same likelihood of successful delivery. The letter will find the addressee… if he is of a mind to be found.

No reply. Not last year, not once in the last thirty-six. It's best not to speculate why.

Aziraphale can avoid considering what the reply would be, if he does not expect one.

It’s not that he does not hope for it — he does, in a light, detached way. The kind of hope of a child who makes a passing wish for flight on every shooting star, unperturbed by the immutable pull of gravity, not dissuaded from repeating the same request. Hope akin to a smoldering coal that glows low through rain or shine, providing little in the way of light, but indifferent to the weather. The angel is well versed in this sort of gossamery hope. One does not get through millennia among tumulous, fragile human lives — through watching teachings of kindness rewarded with four sharp bits of metal — through the search for the silver lining in the promise of a rainbow — without abundant practice in keeping wishes abstract and safely separate from reality.

With the letter off on its way, Aziraphale retreats into the bookshop and sets the water to boil. A cup of strong tea is the next tradition-dictated step. An excellent way to clear his head of the dispatched message, thus providing space — space to start mulling over the words in the future one. He could even consider changing the color of the sealing wax - he will not, in the end, but it’s worth deliberating for a month or three. Good thing there is a whole another year for thorough preparation. 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: In writing this piece, for the meaning of the sealing wax color, I referred to the following London Daily News passage provided in the [The Sacred Heart Review](https://newspapers.bc.edu/?a=d&d=BOSTONSH18941013-01.2.46&e=-------en-20--1--txt-txIN-------), Volume 12, Number 21, 13 October 1894:  
> "In France sealing wax has by no means gone out as a consequence of the introduction of gummed envelopes. According to the Bulletin dc la Papeterie, ihere is even a sort of code or language of sealing wax among fashionable people. White sealing wax is chosen for communications relating to weddings, black for obituaries, violet for expressions of sympathy, chocolate for invitations to dinner, red for business, ruby for engaged lovers' letters, green for letters from lovers who live in hopes, and brown for refusals of offers of marriage; while blue denotes constancy, yellow jealousy, pale green reproaches, and pink is used by young girls, and gray between friends."
> 
> Soon thereafter it became apparent to me that not all sources agree on this matter. Specifically, [this 1887 Burra Record article](https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/36021955) provides as meaning of the blue sealing wax - love. I decided to not change anything.
> 
> I'm [losyanya](https://losyanya.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr - please feel free to chat with me about anything and everything!


End file.
